Chapter 7Caught in the act, Warwick was at a loss for words. “I, uh…”
Dom was still in just gym shorts—back in just gym shorts, assuming he had taken them off or at least pulled them down so Ross the Xfinity guy could lay more than cable.
“Hot.” Warwick had a habit of speaking his observations whether appropriate or not.
“That it is.” Ross chuckled from down on his knees behind Dom. He was gathering his tools—several pairs of different sized pliers, small pieces of cable, some sort of box with numbers and wiggly needles under glass—from a position he’d likely taken earlier for a different purpose. His red T-shirt had dark circles at the pits and a few teardrop shaped ones down the front. Both men had flattened, almost dripping wet hair. Somewhere along the line, in the throes of the hoo
